The Boy In Bed Three
by Vitaminkate
Summary: Basil Coleman is in St Mungo's recuperating from a nasty niffler bite, where he shares a ward with a young boy called Remus Lupin, who's been admitted suffering from lycanthropy. Rated for violent themes.
1. Chapter 1

Basil Coleman was sitting bold upright in his pristine hospital bed. His back was uncomfortably straight, as his right leg was raised above his head by a winch to prevent extensive bleeding. He had been bitten by a somewhat infected niffler at work five days earlier, and had been incapacitated since then. Basil now understood why someone had tied a green tinged niffler to the outside of his pub, and abandoned it. He also accepted that he should have called the ministry, instead of approaching it with the intention to nursing it back health. The bite on his calf had been tolerable until he started vomiting emerald hair when he had tried to charm it, dab it, bandage it or even counter-curse it. The healers here at St Mungo's were also having problems, mainly preventing Basil from choking while experimenting with different treatment. But he was on the mend now, after Healer Titus had managed to combine some extremely diluted phoenix tears with murtlap, although Basil would have to remain in the ward until he could walk at least to the doors.

He sat there, day after day, with a stringy buttery gel covering his lower leg, reading anything and everything his wife Marguerite brought him every other day, pretending to care what was happening in the Quidditch league and rifling through forgotten favourite books. Every now and again, someone would come and tend to or visit the other three patients in the ward. Basil was a private man, so didn't want to embarrass the other affiliates by being nosy into their aches and ailments, but as far as he could see, one woman had tiny bite marks all over her face and presumably body, perhaps from falling into a bowtruckle borrow, Basil wondered. The other two men had been in the same accident he thought. As far as he could gather from overheard conversations, they worked in a dragon compound, and had received extensive burns after their office caught fire. But Basil knew how mortified he would be if he were asked about his injuries, so he didn't raise these theories with his fellow patients.

So there he lay, unusually prim upon his pillows, when the doors to his left flew open. A whole crowd of people burst into the ward, causing Basil to jump and yelp painfully at his leg. The crowd didn't notice this; as they were too busy fretting over a long stretcher they had brought in, hovering eerily in the middle of them. There were seven healers all bustling round it, and a distraught looking wizard drifting behind it, as if in a daze, not knowing what to do. One of the younger healers looked around and acted at just the right second; he ran and caught the wizard around the waist just as he fell to the ground, paralysed with shock. Basil watched this unfold, unable to look away, and as the healers brought the stretcher to the bed opposite to him, he could see the occupier. He heart dropped. It was a boy. A young boy he thought, but he could not see his face for all of the blood simply pouring from his neck. Basil now understood why the wizard looked so distressed; it looked a terrible injury, made even worse when inflicted on a small child. The healers were now cleaning and dressing the boy's extensive wounds, while the other had drawn up a chair for what Basil had taken to be the boy's father. The wizard just sat there staring at his son, then looking at his feet, then back to his son, mumbling to himself, over and over. The younger healer rubbed his patted his back, whispering hopeful words into his ear, although the wizard appeared not to have acknowledged his presence, let alone his opinion. After the healers had done all they could, muttering long and complex charms that stemmed the bleeding, they walked over to wizard, and said "Mr Lupin, We need to collect some details from you now. We understand it's for it's a difficult time for you and..." they looked uncertainly from Mr Lupin to the boy.

"It's Remus. He's called Remus" he breathed, the first intelligible words he had spoken, as if speaking his son's name had awoken him.

"Well, we need the basic timeline of the attack, and I'm sure the ministry will too, they are on their way. I'm afraid that from what we've gathered and what you've reported, Remus will have to stay for further treatment, although you know as well as I do, he cannot be cured completely" they finished, looking grave and pitying upon both father and son. "If you will just accompany us for a few minutes for a more private discussion (Basil suddenly dropped his eyes), you can soon get back to your son".

Mr Lupin nodded, and looked down at his hands, which were soaked in Remus's blood, with an expression of a feeling that Basil never wanted to feel. He rose slowly, running his fingers through his copper hair, and followed the group of healers through the double doors. Before the door closed however, he span round for one last glance round at his son, whose eyes were still tightly shut as if sleeping peacefully.


	2. Chapter 2

Basil had been left feeling very shaken when the party left, and left on the same ward as such a young yet dangerous victim. He glanced at the other patients, and saw that they mirrored expressions of worry and unease, as well as uncertain stares at bed three. There was no doubt in any of their minds what this young "Remus" was now suffering from.

Foolishly, Basil quickly lent forward in his bed to look out onto the sky to see the moon's position, but soon paid for this action of stupidity when pains ran through his leg and he coughed up a few green fur balls. As he pulled out hairs from between his teeth, he realised that even if it was a full moon, the healers wouldn't be moronic enough to leave an infected person among a ward of debilitated patients. Basil felt a feeling of shame rise in his throat; he cared more for his comfort than for a child's life. He looked across to the child, and pity gushed for his small frail body. Would he now have to live a somewhat solitary life, one of pain and anguish? He will now always be segregated from those around him, and feel prejudice, just as Basil had demonstrated. Will never feel absolute love, for he will always know the risk of loving them, and how he might one day be the cause of their death? The boy looked barely older than six; how can such a small child deal with such emotional stress? Basil didn't think that even he, a man in his fifties, could accept such a life sentence, for as the healers said themselves, there was no cure. Basil will be able to walk out of here a free man, be able to forget his momentary mistake, but yet this boy will live his life being labelled by this one incident, and will be judged on this throughout his years. He would be defined by his weakness.

These pitying thoughts accompanied Basil to sleep, and howls and half whispered words wove in and out of his dreams, mixed with a sense of unease. He kept seeing flashes of blood-thirsty cubs and sobbing moons, when he was pierced by an unholy sound; a blood-curdling scream. He wasn't dreaming any more. Basil scrambled up into the sitting position, and grabbed his wand from the bedside cabinet, and lit up the entire room automatically. He was ready for an attack, having worked several decades in a pub, but in all that time, nothing had prepared him for what he saw. The source of the scream was located in bed three.

The boy's father had returned at some point during the early hours of the morning and was now backed against the wall, staring at his son, not knowing what to do., He shook as if his own son would suddenly spring up and pounce on him, yet his son's eyes remained shut. Remus was thrashing around, as if he in his sleep was being attacked again and again, and he could not hide or escape. He screamed repeatedly for this father, who for the first time looked directly at Basil, and Basil saw genuine fear in his eyes. But Remus's dreams were worsening; his back was arching and legs flailing in the crisp white sheets. He was resisting so hard that the tightly bound bandages about his body loosened, and red droplets mottled his bed. His screams had awoken the entire ward, although not one of them acted or made a sound. The lights in the main office just outside the ward doors switched on, and loud voices could be heard booming. Then, Healer Titus bustled into the room along with two burly looking assistants who wore thick clinical gloves, marched up to Remus and pinned him down. This just made his screams louder, and cried over and over for his mother to save him. Basil could tears stinging his eyes as Healer Titus conjured a glass cruet with a deep purple liquid inside as he approached the bed. He opened the boys screaming mouth, and as soon as the potion hit Remus's throat, he was silent. He slumped back into his pillows.

The two assistants left quickly, as if they had more important things to do. Healer Titus paused, patting Mr Lupin on the shoulder and saying "You need to be strong for him, John", before following his assistants. Mr Lupin hadn't moved, and still pressed against the wall, next to his overturned chair. His hair was tangled, as if he had been running his hands through it all night, and his eyes looked red and exhausted. As the doors closed, Basil and John shared another glance of uncertainty. Basil felt that John could do with some privacy with his thoughts and his son, and extinguished the light and tried to do the fall back to sleep. But he had immense trouble, as all he could hear past the regular snores and the howling winds outside, which didn't seem to bother Basil, was a muttering coming from the darkness. Only snatches of thoughts could be made out, but these didn't stir up confidence in Basil, and he came to wonder why John wanted forgiveness so much, as he kept whispering his apologies to the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

"What, that boy there?" asked Marguerite, shocked.

"Yes, him in bed three." answered Basil, looking over at young Remus, whose father was waiting for his son to wake from his dreamless sleep. Basil wiped his eyes tiredly, as he hadn't been able to drift off after the ward was awoken last. When his wife had come in the morning, he wasted no time telling her the most scandalous piece of information he heard picked up since he had been in St Mungo's. Just managing to keep his voice to a whisper, he saw Marguerite sat there, mouth hanging open, eyes widening at every twist in the tale.

"Well, after what happened to Di, I personally think that such a creature shouldn't be allowed on shared wards" Marguerite informed Basil, not bothering to keep her voice down. Mr Lupin looked up, a numb look of offence on his face.

"Please, be quiet love!" Basil pleaded, and looked over Marguerite until Mr. Lupin had gone back to staring at his son instead of them, then added "So, what happened to Di? Is that her who lives on the Isle of Wight?"

"No, that's Beatrice. No, Di is the one with the dark hair; she lives in Plymouth with the muggle. Well actually, that's where it all started, when this husband of hers; Den I think his name is," said Marguerite, turning for a moment, trying to remember his name. "Maybe it's Daniel. Or Derry. Anyway, it was about 10 years ago now I think. It was all over the papers, even the muggle ones. I can't believe I've told you before now. It's such a tale."

"Well I wish you'd tell me now, you still haven't started" said Basil through gritted teeth. His wife never told a story quickly, she always mulled over the tiniest details instead of getting to the point. At this rate, visiting time would be over before she had started, and also Basil had the idea that John was listening too for the story.

"All right, keep your bandages on. Well you see, Di married this Derry or whatever his name is, but he had been married before. He and his four kids from his ex-wife moved in with Di in her farmhouse down in Plymouth. Well, you can tell what we all thought of that to begin with," sneered Marguerite, eyes glinting."It's one thing branching out from us, but taking on four brats? I certainly couldn't have done it." She paused, before adding "Although I did feel for them after, the poor folk."

"Why what happened?" asked Basil eagerly, wondering whatever could trigger his wife to feel sorry for muggles.

"Well, this is where it started. You see, Daniel was a regular down the old tavern, and left the kids with Di. Well, you know Di, don't you? Wouldn't say boo to a goose. So these kids ran riot, breaking things, smashing things, throwing things, even that expensive perfume I gave her a couple of years ago. Of course, Di never lifted her wand. Never wanted them to know about that side of her you see. Well one night in August, it was too hot to have all the little whippersnappers running around, so she let them run in the fields around her farm before bed. Biggest mistake of her life, if you ask me" added Marguerite, shaking her head, looking superior.

"Why?" urged Basil. He sensed that Marguerite was dragging this out on purpose.

"It wasn't until she heard the screaming that she knew something was up. She ran out, grabbing her wand, and guess what? She saw it. Huge. Must have been 7 foot. It had already had three of the kiddies' throats, and was aiming for the last. If she hadn't had ran in front of the beast and stunned it, she and the urchin would have bought it. I've never looked at Di the same way again" She sighed, with a convincing face of pity. "Imagine coming home to that; three of your four kids dead and your wife's a witch. It's enough to unscrew most folk, let alone Den. Course; they hushed it all up, didn't they? Some story about a rabid fox or dog, enough to convince the muggles, anyhow."

Basil sat very still. He could remember that in the paper. '3 MUGGLES DEAD AFTER MIDNIGHT FEAST" had been the ever so crude headline. After a while, Marguerite changed the subject to other interesting topics; a story she'd read in Witch Weekly, whether they should invest in a new wireless, and the fact that one of their regulars at the pub had recently disappeared. Basil wasn't listening. He nodded ever so often, but his mind was elsewhere. He always knew the barbaric behaviour of the brutes, but hearing it in the savage tones of Marguerite seemed to make it more real. And as his eyes travelled up from his lap, he saw the boy, and couldn't seem to believe that this Remus was suffering from the same illness as the beast from his wife's story. That such a small boy could maim, and kill. He briefly looked at Mr Lupin, whose face was glazed with tears, and it seemed Mr Lupin couldn't believe it either.


	4. Chapter 4

Marguerite left the ward that afternoon, leaving Basil filled with uncertainty. Her visit had not been a glad one, thought Basil, and although it felt good to speak to someone who wasn't ill or close to tears, she upset at least two people on the ward, Basil included. After she went, he tried to busy himself behind The Prophet, trying to preoccupy his mind to think about the Quidditch leagues and not about murders in Plymouth or beasts in bed three. He failed miserably.

At around eight that night, four men entered the ward. There was Healer Titus with a colleague in bright robes, both looking grave, and the colleague was carrying a large battered book, obscuring the title with his arm. Behind them followed two men in thick travelling cloaks, looking very imperative.

One had a rather stocky moustache, the other with a monocle. They looked relatively intimidating. They strode along the ward and congregated around the boy in bed three, and stood quietly. Mr Lupin hadn't noticed this; he was quite asleep. Healer Titus gave a loud cough, and Mr Lupin yanked awake. He looked nervously around, his eyes focussing on the four men.

"John, we've come to speak about the next treatment for young Remus here "said Healer Titus.

John looked around at all the men, expecting them to speak, and asked "okay, shall we do it here, or-"

"We will do it here. My office is too small for all of us to fit" replied Titus, giving the ward a sweeping eye. He caught Basils, who hastily looked down at his half-complete crossword. When looked back up, the curtains had been drawn around the bed, but the men on the other side didn't seem too keen to keep their voices down, and carried on as if the curtain also blocked out sound.

"Well, he's taken his last dose of Dreamless, and he will awake sometime tomorrow on his own" said Titus's voice, "He might become disorientated or confused, and it is _essential_ that we don't distress him. He would be even more at risk in a state of anguish."

"Okay, yeah, we don't want to hurt him do we?" said John, sounding sorrow.

"Well, to be honest you're more at risk than him if he becomes irate. He could easily attack out of confusion, and we can't have a burden like that upon his ward. We have a duty of care for the other patients."

"Right." Said John, sounding slightly put out. "So how can we make Remus feel safe?"

"Well this is where Mr Plutarch and Pictor come in. They are certain experts in the field." Said Titus.

A gruff sound came from behind the curtain, a rough voice which Basil pictured coming from the moustached man, "Well, very little research has been done in the field. We cannot guarantee the outcome of this. He will wake to find his entire life changed, with wounds which will never heal, and a condition that will affect his future. Of course, safety is paramount. We must seclude him from the rest of society every full moon. When a man becomes a beast, they change somewhat, they-"

"What did you call my son?" asked Mr Lupin quietly. Basil felt the atmosphere solidify. There was an awkward moment. Another voice answered Mr Lupin, which sounded as if it was coming out of someone's nose rather than their mouth.

"He is a beast. There is no denying this fact. Documents have already been sent to the Ministry, they've amended this boy's species on all the registers. Once bitten, you are classified as a-"

Mr Lupin must have stood up quickly, sending his chair banging to the floor. "Remember who you are speaking of. He will always be my son. He is still a child, not an animal. Imagine if he-"

"He is changed. He will never be the same" cut in the gruff voice coldly. "He is still a child, he is still you son. But he is now a risk to society, and you must take responsibility over the regulation when the brute is young-"

There was bang, shouting, and a lot of movement around the curtain. Basil jumped as the ward was sudden filled with incantations and clouds of smoke. The so-called experts ripped back the curtain and stalked out of the ward, muttering something along the lines of "no time for people like him" before slamming the doors open. Basil's eyes travelled back to bed three. Healer Titus had cast a shielding charm, and the other healer had restrained Mr Lupin from engaging in muggle duelling. Mr Lupin shook him off, as Titus undid the charm, and gave Mr Lupin a look of great disapproving. The healer picked up the chair, and pushed Mr Lupin back into it. The men in lime green robes shook their heads, and left the ward looking annoyed and whispering comments to each other. Basil tried to look busy, shifting his papers around on his bedside cabinet. He was avoiding John's eyes, as over the past few days, they had made several embarrassing eye contacts, mainly down to Basil's nosiness. As John returned once again to his chair, and laid his head next to his son's hand, Basil looked up. Both father and son looked drawn and ill, Remus twitching ever so often, and John shaking from a non-existent draft. Basil's eyes lingered only for a few seconds more, and saw the book which had been carried in was sitting upright on the bedside cabinet. It read "_Lycanthropy and You: How to Control the Inner-Animal_."


	5. Chapter 5

Basil's condition worsened over night. While changing his bandages before bed, a trainer healer had foolishly forgotten to use anti-dulcet demulcent. As a result of this, His wounds had started to heal into the bandages, knitting together over the material. The pain awoke Basil in the early hours of the morning, along with the copious amount of hair in his throat which started growing, and Healer Titus had to spend 2 hours severing the dressing from his calf.

So by midday, Basil wasn't exactly in a good mood. He sat in his bed grimacing in tenderness, trying to devise a new way to entertain himself. He took to eavesdropping on the other conversations in the ward, which he didn't necessarily agree with, but these were desperate times. The woman who had mysterious bites all over her body was being visited by her haughty-looking son. Both with startling white hair, their conversation revolved from one comment she seemed to make over and over again in her broad Yorkshire accent: "I'm never breeding those little bleeders again." The other two patients were being talked through their diagnosis with another Healer. Basil knew they'd be here for a while because their injuries are bad when the best remark the healer can say is "Well, hopefully, you'll be eating through a straw soon."

Although the ward was unusually full, Basil felt the room was missing a key figure. Remus lay alone in his bed, his father nowhere to be seen. He must go home at some point, thought Basil, but he was so used to seeing the wizard opposite him, the atmosphere seemed different. A room without that long, tired face seemed oddly empty. After a while of listening to the same conversations, Basil took out an old copy of _Encyclopaedia of Toadstools _and started to read. He'd always loved toadstools, and this was an opportunity to read up on some old favourites...

He was yanked awake with the loud noise had come from the ward doors. His book slid from the covers and fell to the floor. The room was empty of the earlier visitors, and the woman with the bites had gone; she must have been discharged. The room was much warmer, as it was now early afternoon. His eyes focused at the door, where the noise had come from. There stood Mr. Lupin, supporting a woman who seemed to have forgotten how to stand up. Her hands were clapped to her face in shock, tears already welling up in her bronze eyes. The same eyes were fixed on the boy in bed three, who had not reacted to the sudden arrival of what must be his mother. Mr. Lupin gave his wife a small shake, and she seemed to regain control of her legs. She stumbled down the aisle to his bedside, her long coffee-colored coat trailing on the floor, dark blonde hair tousled and crumpled. She sat down on the bed next to Remus, still reeling in shock. Mr. Lupin followed her, and landed in the seat on his son's other side, looking anxiously at his wife. When she had finally lowered her hands, she looked over at her husband and whispered "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

"Because I didn't want to worry you" said John, grasping his wife's hand.

"But, my boy. Look at him. Just look. Oh, why on earth didn't you say?" gasped the woman, a single tear running down her face.

"I knew you would react like this. I know it's enough strain with your mother, but having to nurse Remus too. It's too much for anyone. Even for you, Rhea" replied John, giving his wife a rather sad smile.

"He's, just so, so... broken" whispered his wife, staring at her son.

"It isn't as bad as it looks apparently. Healer Titus told me most of wounds are superficial, so-"

"Superficial?" breathed Rhea, "Superficial? He's been bitten, he's a, he's a..."

"Yes I know he is. I'm not denying that. But we will cope. We will manage. We have to for Remus" said John, "Anyway, I can look after him while-"

"John, I know you want to stay here, but.." trailed off Rhea, looking uncomfortable.

"But what? Work hasn't been writing, have they?" Asked John distractedly.

"Well yes, and, I don't know how long I can keep them from-"

"What do you mean? Work can wait; I need to see how he's doing. I've got to stay with Remus, if he wakes up and I'm not here, he'll think I've abandoned him."

"I know that, but, I can't work, not with mother at home. And, even if you don't go to work now, what about after he comes home? What about every month from now till forever? How can we afford so much time off?" asked Rhea, her eyes darting around the ward, her pale face rushed with colour. Basil averted his eyes, and turned over to face the bedside cabinet. He felt embarrassed for eavesdropping on such a private conversation, he should have really learnt by now. He needed to stop doing it. He tried to block out their voices, but it was impossible.

"I must stay here. I must stay with him. After all, this is all down to me." Muttered John.

"No, it is not," replied Rhea, passion in her voice. "You didn't do this. You didn't. You cannot blame yourself. You'll end up tearing yourself apart. You can't."

"Yes I can. Because it is my fault. I'm the one who affronted Greyback. I'm the one he should have mutilated, not, not my son" he finished, he voice faltering under the emotion.

Rhea was gasping for a reply, to clear his name, or give him any forgiveness, but the words didn't come. She simply took to gripping John's hand very hard.


End file.
